There is a freight line that runs near where I live. I only ever notice it when I am out walking at night. It moves slow and whistles and screeches and thunders quietly. Steel on steel. I like the sound because it rings in and out like some abandoned midnight ghost train, or something of the sort. I have a tendency to walk in concentric circles at night: first going long, then drifting back, then not wanting the walk to end just yet and setting off again. And on and on like this. The train moves along the outer edge of my circle, and so it’s always nearby. I like the sound because it makes me feel like I’m walking through some late-night Kubrick-esque back alley, under a score by whomever. Those Romanian chanters from Eyes Wide Shut, perhaps. Sometimes I imagine myself running and jumping and climbing up on top of one of the freight cars. Then just sitting. I imagine that there will be a lot of dirt and insects up there. I imagine sitting there among the slow-moving steel and earth and just riding the length of the line. Seeing where it goes and traveling along with it under the night sky. I like walking at night because it enhances the calmness of exhaustion. I like the games we play when no one else is around. Like the one with the freight train. Or the one where the moon is never where I left it last.
This entry was filed under Essays, Quickly.
